Aragorn’s Rather Tricky Situation
by Too Voici
Summary: Sometimes it's just not best to jump people when they're taking a bath. Ver. 2.5!
1. The Start Of Things

Aragorn is in a Bit of a Pickle.

_I'd like to thank you for the positive feedback. It's helping me turn this story into something good, which of course is a beautiful thing. _

_Reading back now, I can see how random Boromirs' appearance is but I felt that I didn't want to completely remove Boromir from the story, because, In a nutshell, I like him too, too much. _

_I almost prefer that this hasn't been jumped on by loadsa' people. I've had two fantastic bits of advice from each of the versions of this, and that's good enough for me . _

_--+--_

Stupid Elves and their stupid, stupid traditions. As if it wasn't punishment enough that I woke up to a pile of perfectly groomed hair and the taste of man-perfume in my mouth. What was the word he used for it? Ah, yes. Cologne. Fancy word to cover up the fact he's a lad wearing a perfume that smells like flowers, if you ask me.

So I suppose it all started when I first met that stupid, stupid, stupid Elf.

"Pleased to meet you, Dúnedain." He said. "Hope we may meet again" he said.

Okay, I can admit he was kind of handsome. Maybe beautiful in that typical brown-eyes, blonde haired-I-Like-To-Trick-Good-Ol'-Aragorn-Into-Stuff-He-Will-Regret kind of way, if you like the look of a woman on a man. Other then that, I saw nothing in him except another prince. I already had Elrohir and Elladan, who did enough princing and prancing as it was, I didn't need another. So that was the first beginning.

The real start to my problems was when we reached Lothlorien. I was dealing with never having the prospect of seeing Arwen again. I thought my friend, my teacher, was dead, and to top it of, Boromir permanently whining around me. All the time. Over and over and over and over again. I'm telling you - that man had persistence.

I was feeling lonely and hurt. I would of reached out to anybody I saw bathing that day, be they man, woman, heh, even Gimli. And that's saying something - have you felt his beard? Euw. Prickly.

So why did it have to be Legolas?

He was bathing, and I was lonely, and he asked me to join him, in a perfectly friendly way. Not many Elves expect to be jumped by a Ranger as they wash, you see. That is, not to say he couldn't stop me. Oh no, I've seen Legolas throw a punch that could knock out a horse.

To take a long story and to make it shorter - we were bathing, and we ended up doing something that was Perfectly Natural When a Man Likes an Elf. Four times.

I must of fallen asleep after that, because I blinked and then I opened my eyes I was lying on my 'bed' (A sheet of silk lying gracefully over the root of a tree, thank you Grandma') with Legolas's happy little face beaming at me.

"Erg... a...fore..." I mumbled, and turned away from him, trying to find a position where bark wasn't trying to be one with my spine.

"It was a good night." Legolas said eventually, his voice dripping with joy.

I strained my eyes open again, vision all blurry. Then I remembered.

"Oh..."

My blood, spit and previous meal, in a bid to get away from me and my plight, tried to flee my body through my mouth. I think my kidneys were in the mess on the floor, too, by the end of it. Lucky them.

Legolas was a bit puzzled by this reaction. In all of his long life, filled with killing, fighting, hurting, he had never seen someone throw up before. He stared at the mess in front of me, and I could almost hear his thoughts. 'What is that... goo? Is it his kidneys? Is this how humans give birth? Is that our child? No... Could it be a gift? A strange human gift? Why is he heaving like that? Is he going to do it again?'

I cleaned myself of as quickly as I could manage with the aid of my water flask and a spare set of clothes. All the while ignoring Legolas's devoted glances at me. No. If I couldn't see it, it wasn't there... couldn't see...wasn't there... it became a mantra for me as I pulled a shirt over my head.

"Aragorn?"

"Can't see isn't-"

"What?"

"I mean! - yes?"

A sly grin slid across his mouth. "You do know that we're-"

I jumped up as if I had heard a loud noise suddenly and when I tried to speak it was high and squeaky and like it was when I was going through what Elrond told me was my 'cocoon' phase when I was turning into a man and got all hairy. "WHAT WAS THAT!" I practically screamed and pointed in a random direction. "OH NO! THE RING BARER!" I ran wildly, my legs all over the place, not even sure if I was going in the same direction as I had pointed.

"Aragorn." Legolas yelled after me. I turned with something of a crazy look in my eyes.

"You forgot your sword. And daggers. And trousers." Legolas said rather dryly, as he threw a bundle at me. I caught it while I ran, taking care to trip over as many roots as possible.

When I felt I had gone far enough (or, at least as far as I was prepared to run with nothing to cover the lower regions that had gotten me in this mess...) I took the care to duck behind a tree, sorting out the bundle I was clutching. Wanting speed rather then logic, I defied the laws of physics by putting both legs through my trousers at once, then belted up my sword. I felt a little better after this - its wonders the power of proper attire and a great big get-lost sword can do for the self esteem.

I stood up, brushing my shirt clean and prepared for the battle that lay ahead, striding ahead with a purpose that would knock the Valer themselves of their feet.

And totally failed to see the ball of Gondorian ball of chain mail and hair that came around the corner of the path.

"Owowowowow." He gasped. I was sitting on his legs.

"Hallo there Boromir." I said, laughing nervously. We were face to face. I could see his nose hair.

"Do you have to sit on me?" He asked with a groggy morning voice that told me, even if I was wide awake, others weren't. He looked worried (although, thinking back, that was probably because he wasn't used to being sat on by the Chief of the Dúnedain). It made me wonder if he had the same problems as I did. Probably not.

"Why do you insist in asking questions?" I muttered, standing up. I dragged Boromir up after me.

He looked me up and down. "Yes. Why are your trousers on backwards?"

This is the way of Our favorite Gondorian. Ask questions he doesn't want to know the answer to.

"Boromir, do you know much about Elves, and marriage?" I asked, feeling the overwhelming erg to confess.

"Well until yesterday I thought that Elven women ate the flesh of the men they bedded." He said, looking at me suspiciously.

"Oh. Oooh. So that's why you were looking at me strangely when I told you about Arwen. I thought you were jealous, you know." I wanted to wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry, I wanted to kill Legolas, if Arwen ever found out about all of this, she would kill us both.

"I am now that I know she isn't going to devour you." He murmured. I'd like to take the time to say that this wasn't a one off. This was how Boromir acted all the time. This is what we had to live with. No wonder he came to Rivendell alone - I know the thought of spending four months traveling with the guy would make me want to take my chances fighting Sauron by myself.


	2. Aragorn Explains a Few Things

The Second Chapter In That Which I Call A Story.

_Thankyou._

_--+--_

It is fair to say that Elves, when it comes to 'those naughty deeds' are fairly liberal. I suppose it just comes about that a immortal race isn't exactly raging in that department to prevent a little thing called 'over-population'

So it becomes like a ceremony, or a ritual, mate for life and all that. This of course is fine, especially when you see all the crowded, people-packed houses that happen when silly humans and their over-active hormones start running about the place.

What I'm getting at, is that the act of... well, you know... as a marriage ceremony amongst Elves is all fine and dandy until someone (like me) comes along, drunk on their own angst, sorrow and self-pity and sleeps with the first trollop that comes along (like Legolas). Then things get a little more tricky.

Which I hope explains a little bit as to why up until 5 minutes ago I was running around Lothlorien, my trousers on backwards, trying to wipe clean my memories of the night before, hiding from Legolas or anyone else who would ask awkward questions like 'Why is Big Scary Ranger Aragorn looking like a flushing, blushing bride and jumping at any sudden movement. And why is blondy over there looking so smug?'

Of course, I probably could explain all that by putting it down to coincidence. I think that, however, I would have a hard time explaining why I was sat in a tree truck with two eye holes drilled out.


	3. Can a Man Not Rest Peacefully?

The Third In Our Chronicle

_Or, Can a man not rest peacefully without being molested or married or almost speared with an arrow?_

--+--

Celeborn turned to his wife, laying a hand on her arm.

"Why is the Dúnedain hiding in a tree stump?" He asked, for he had heard strange reports from several elves of Aragorn taking refuge from some unknown foe in ways surprising coming from one so skilled in stealth.

Galadriel slowly turned hr head to her husband, her eyes not entirely focused on him. "I think it's best if you did not know, my love." She responded, and then turned back to whatever had caught her attention.

"Oh."

--+--

I was leaning against a tree, breathing heavily.

"Don't scare me like that."

My throat was on fire from where I had inhaled a lot of moss from the stone I had been face down on. I think I swallowed a mole in the shock, too.

"May I ask why you were face down upon a rock in the outer reaches of Lothlorien, and not safe in Caras Galadhon where I last left you?"

"Can a man not rest peacefully without being molested or married or _almost speared with an arrow?_" I muttered, rubbing my arm where his mark had almost hit. "That's strange, where are your brothers. Aren't they usually around you somewhere? And such a delight to talk too."

Haldir nodded towards a tree and I saw now that Rúmil and Orophin stood silently with several other marchwardens.

So I had been peacefully resting, secure in the fact I was far, far away from Legolas, when I had first heard the sound of gentle, bastardized Sindarin. I had stayed still, but before I could open my mouth to speak, they had gone from my hearing range, and I was getting zinged by arrows left right and centre. They had stopped when they realized I wasn't a smelly pile of rags, but in fact Elendil's heir.

And so, they had called for Haldir, because he knew how to handle me.

"Hey!" I shouted, waving over to them.

Haldir gave me A Look. "… I suppose I should ask you if you are alright."

I stood upright from the tree. "Oh, my dear friend Haldir. If you only knew the truth."


	4. A Short And Sweet Transition Chapter

A Short And Sweet Transition Chapter.

_Or, in which we see that the author does not very much like Haldir._

After a rather uneventful journey (well, apart from that one incident involving an axe, some strawberries and A Very Angry Aragorn) I found myself back at Lorien HQ. This was a rather risky move, but in my defence, it was that or running away again and perhaps bumping into Haldir. News travels fast amongst Elves, obviously, because as he helped me on my way his parting words were "You have a good, bountiful life ahead of you. I have heard the Prince can shoot a boar at near a mile." He let out a short, sharp laugh and then paused. "At least you will never be short of meat."

Oh, how I laughed. How I laughed.


	5. And Once More Into The Abyss

_And Once More Into The Abyss _

_Yes, I know after YEARS of flicking through many Tolkien books and searching the web, I gave in and I cheated and used bastardised Elvish from a random elfish vocabulary list, and also, am aware how vague Gimli's character is. I haven't a face to his name yet. I don't really like Gimli. What can I say? He's just not my type. _

I saw Gimli. He saw me. There was no avoiding one another.

"I. Um." I began, quickly cut of by the awkward silence. They were quickly becoming my best friends. Ah, yes, and Uncomfortable Conversation was the cousin I was forced to talk with when Aunty Polite Conversation came for a chat with my 'ma.

"Hallo." Oh, yes, Gimli, bless him, had the awareness of a brick. Never one to notice the subtleties, like the fact he had just see Legolas run past, darting up trees and then disappearing into the forest and then me shortly after falling out of the tree, playing the LothLorien version of 'Hide And Seek' called 'Delio A Rado' which is roughly translated as 'Come Out Of That Tree, You Sly Bugger'.

He looked at me through his beard. "Didn't that hurt?"

I looked at him and then looked at the ground I had hit. "It didn't, actually. I landed on a squirrel."

"Oh."

Minutes later we ended up doing what Gimli and I always ended up doing when we alone together - finding a suitable liqueur and drinking it. Gimli had chugging down to a fine art. There was much to be learnt from a man who could glug down the equivalent of a trough of mead, while still retaining his common sense.

He was currently rummaging in his pack, looking for what he labelled as a 'Vintage Brew, to combat that Elf Filth', but this could of meant anything. We had been travelling the wilderness for Elberteth-Knows-How-Long, and thus might have been fermented potatoes for all I knew.

"...Gimli."

"Yeeeep?" His voice muffled in the material of the bag.

"What would you do if you made a mistake, and the outcome was about as far from where you drew the line as it is possible to be?"

"Is it really far over the line?"

"The line is not even a dot to me."

"Hmmm." His head emerged from the canvas bag. "Weeeeell.. I mean, what are the circumstances? You're going to have to tell me more then that."

I sighed. "I wish I could. Say you were angry, and you took it out on a dog. It got in your way, and you kicked it. But the, the dog died. There's nothing you can do to make the dog alive again, to turn back time, so what can you do to remedy the situation?"

He looked at me, eyebrows raised. "I would probably except what I had done and, over time, make up for it."

"You're not helping, Gimli." I took the bottle he had passed me and pressed it to my lips. I was wrong - not fermented potatoes, fermented chestnuts. He was obviously getting desperate. "You're not telling me what I want to hear."

"And what's that?"

"That everything is going to be fine."

"Everything is going to be fine. On a global level, of course." He thought for a moment. "I wouldn't guarantee that things'll be fine on a personal level."

"What you're saying sounds too much like sobriety. If you have a gallon of this scummy alcohol you wouldn't be saying that."

He nodded. "But I'd also be dancing around in front of The Lady with no clothes on."

I tipped the rest of the brew into my willing mouth. "Doesn't sound like such a bad idea."

"Listen, boy"

"I'm 87 years old."

"Don't care. Listen. Whatever it is has your running around flushed and uncomfortable and wearing your trousers back to front - whatever your beef with That Elf is, sort it out. Soon. We'll be heading of as soon as the Hobbits have woken up, and it'll be harder to talk to him when we're busy trying not to die"

Whatever blood I had left in me drained from my face. I didn't say anything, just got up and left.

This day had turned out to be a tad bit different to what I intended it to be.


	6. Being Right, Being Lecherous

Being Right, Being Indignant, Being Lecherous.

_Do tell if things don't sound good, I'm always one for improvement_

You know? Gimli was bloody right. I needed to be a man - confront him and his silly, childish insistent. So why were my feet going to opposite way to where Legolas was?

The simple answer? I didn't want to be married to a long blonde haired bimbo. I wanted to be married to a brunette one.

I stopped and slumped against a tree and made a noise that wasn't totally different from that of the dying squirrel I fell on earlier.

"What an attractive noise."

"Shutupshutup. I can't see you, you _simply don't exist_." I mumbled.

Legolas's expression changed like a flash from calm coquette-ish-ness to surprise. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" He asked in that falsetto scream of his.

I shook my head eyes still covered. My _Love_ sat down beside me, and we sat in silence for a little while.

"So.."

Akward glances.

I looked up and coughed. "So are we-"

The next part happened in slow motion, there was a blur of blonde hair and well manicured nails and I was bowled over, pressed to the ground. Next thing I know there are hands where there were no hands before.

"Erk!"

Despite that obviously clear statement the silly trollop's _violation_ continued until I bit him firmly on the nose.

"I was that for!" I gasped, trying to spit out the taste of Elf.

"I'm your husband! It's my _right!_" his voice bristled self-righteousness and indignancy.

I delivered Legolas a swift hard poke to the chest, hoping to do the impossible and deflate his ego. "Just because your culture counts getting down with it as an act of serious commitment _does not_ give you the right to jump my bones when I am unprepared!"


End file.
